


Days go by

by cuneifire



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Gen, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 09:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13567551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuneifire/pseuds/cuneifire
Summary: Ralph is dead, Jack thinks as he stares out onto the bleeding ocean.Ralph is dead and Jack is proud, but not enough.





	Days go by

**Author's Note:**

> Uh- I had a lord of the flies phase. It was a while ago. This happened. Don't hurt me. I blame tumblr.  
> Also, I have no clue as to whether this is slash or gen.  
> Edit: Forgot to mention that the title's taken from the album by the Offspring. Oops.

The island was silent that night, no cries of savage boys or squeals or hunted pigs or screams from monsters that only appeared in the shadows. No, even though it had been days since the former chief died, the only thing that hung in the air was the deadly ring of silence.

                The now-chief, the red haired boy who had personally taken it upon himself to stab the stupid blonde in the chest with a well sharpened spear, now sat on a rock. He stared at the bright moon, lonely among the sea of pulsing stars.

It wasn’t as if Jack had particularly cared for Ralph, he thought to himself. The boy may have been charismatic and civilized, but that didn’t make him a good chief. In fact, that made him a bad one.

                It was what separated the two of them. What separated the man holding the glorious spear and the pathetic boy at the crouching wrong end of it. What separated a true leader from a fake one.

That was what they ( _he_ ) insisted, at least.

                His attention drifted to a nearby twig, twisting it together and slowly, bit by bit, pulling it to pieces and then dropping the small shreds into the ocean far below.

He wondered, as his eyes re met the bright sky, if he and Ralph could have ever been friends. At first, they hadn’t really… _hated_ each other. In fact, a wrong glance or two and one could have almost said they got along.

                At the end of a spear’s point, the thought had flashed across your mind one last time.

_“Last offer. You join us. Or-“ The spear’s point pieced skin, and Ralph swallowed, refusing to cry, refusing to give in, holding his eyes without glancing downwards._

_“I would rather- I would rather-” He spoke quietly, but determine to finish, voice quivering in effort._

_Jack hadn’t let him._

_Just as his mouth finally formed the words, the spear pierced him, and he fell limp against the sand, eyes almost lifeless as the last word left his lips._

_“Die.”_

But he had refused. Or course he had. Because he was incapable of changing, of accepting something new, of living how things were meant to be.

                Because, he had to stick to his stupid rules, his fatty friends Piggy and martyr Simon, his useless fire. Couldn’t let it go.

Jack rolled the thought over in his head, remembering another thing he’d said to the blonde boy in his living days.

                “You act like you’re so much better, Ralph. Like you’re any different.”

He’d been trying to make a point to Ralph, but now it seemed more of a point to be made to himself, seeing as Ralph was, well.

                Closing his eyes briefly, Jack lay down on the cold rock. He couldn’t sleep though, because the thought still haunted him.

                Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

He hadn’t slept properly since Ralph died, only closed his eyes once or twice for more than a moment. It wasn’t that he regretted killing the blond, far from it. It was just…

                Without Ralph, there was nothing left to fight. No civil to his savage, no rules to his chaos, no beauty to his ugly.

                He contemplated that word for a second as he shifted off the rock, not bothering to brush himself up as he sat back up and studied the shadow of a tree in the moonlight.

Beautiful.

                Was that truly what Ralph wa- had been?

In appearance, surely. But in soul? He had represented everything Jack wasn’t. If Ralph had meant beauty, then Jack meant ugly.

                He stared up into the moonlight again, eyes tired, sick of thinking.

He supposed he didn’t mind that. Beautiful things had a tendency to crack under the weight of the ugly world surrounding them.

                Ralph had cracked. Physically, sure. Bones now scattered in the waves of the ocean, because seeing his head on a pike everyday had brought too much trouble to his mind. But spiritually too. In his last moments, he hadn’t been Ralph the civilized and well-mannered boy who kept it all together. No, he had been a wreck, a shadow of his former self, barely clinging to sanity and morals and what was right in a world that had turned on him.

So he supposed Ralph had been beautiful. And he supposed he was ugly, a part of the world that Ralph had so desperately hated and wanted to pretend non-existent.

                “Who’s non-existent now, blondie?” He muttered to no one, not caring if he seemed batty, wondering, if only slightly, if somewhere out there the dead boy could hear him.

His voice echoed in the island, leaving him feeling even more empty.

                He had lost his rival. He didn’t have anything to fight for. He had won.

                Wasn’t success supposed to make you feel good?

He didn’t feel good. He felt…

                Lost. Like after the first day, when the reality of his situation had set in, before he’d given up on the ridiculous idea of ever being saved.

                Before he’d lost hope. He supposed he’d been the first.

And Ralph had been the last.

                He sighed, looking out onto the ocean, wondering if, out there, anyone could see him, see the person he had become.

He doubted it.


End file.
